Play to Your Best Card
by JakeCrown
Summary: A self-insert into the fandom without all that stupid romance and drama bull. Conquering the world in a brutal and creative way using modern learnings and foreknowledge of G.R.R.M's work. Warning for war crimes and brutality.
1. Chapter 1

Oh hell. This is not good. I had read all the books, seen the first two season and part of the third when the omnipotent fuck did this to me. I have zero skill with a sword and no interest in living in a world without flushable toilets, new Southpark episodes, and, hand soap. What would my girlfriend do without me? We had been together for years. never away from each other more than a day in years. I felt sick.

Most of all, I mourned the loss of the blessed herb of peace. My hands start shaking and I feel a head-ache coming with the power of a freight train.

Might as well make some decisions before whatever the ROB throws another curve ball at me. I am not in my 22 year old body. Time to put my narcissistic and anti-social personality traits to use.

It is not the body that I had it is white skinned for one thing. I and a tan skinned mocha-American, and a mix of 4 different races.

I miss my dog.

The headache is getting worse.

I am in a small room alone. A candle burns in the corner on top of a small desk, a chair in front of it. A small bed on the other side a chest at the foot of the bed. I examine myself closely.

Thin arms and legs. Wiry muscles. I hadn't been this little since I was 8. I pulled a strand of hair out of my head and held it in front of my face, blond. No chest hair or beard stubble, a smooth face. Still have 2 balls.

My hands have calluses, not a noble then. On the other hand nobles do have calluses from sword practice. Maybe a noble then.

I open the chest at the foot of the bed.

A wooden sword.  
4 fabric tunics, 1 leather, all dyed red.  
A knife, looks like iron, oiled, no rust.  
2 pairs of pants, one leather, one fabric, dyed red.  
3 books, A Dance with Dragons by Grand Maester Munkun and The Tale of Lann the Clever.  
Also a journal, Martyn Lannister.

Fuck! I must be a Lannister. This is bad, very very bad.

I start reading it immediately.

Two hours later, I shut the journal, toss it back into the the chest with everything else, and lay down in the bed to sleep. Maybe the headache will go away. Maybe I will wake up back in Texas and eat a cheeseburger and pizza again.

1

Morning in Casterly Rock.

I couldn't sleep all night, and instead used the time to make a mental checklist and weigh the pros and cons of various escape plans and how to get the hell off this continent.

I have 2 brothers, and a sister. My oldest brother, Lancel, I remember from the books is a pussy and fucks his own cousin. My other brother Willem is my twin and is a squire in the Stormlands.

I have no Idea what to do. I can't run anywhere, Where would I go? There is food and a bed here.

Do I care about the 5 way war that is about to start? Yes.

Why do I care? Self preservation. I have blond hair and a fancy name.

I need to get the fuck off Westeros. As I said, I have read the books and its not looking so good for this continent. White walkers to the north, My queen bitch cousin and her mad spawn in the south, Cthulhu worshiping pirates to the west, man burning red god cultist and her "chosen one" to the east.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Time for stage 1 of plan A It was the base for multiple contingency plans.

A real head injury is needed for plan A. Cons A painful head injury and possible death or permanent maiming, Pros Reason for a change in personality from excitable happy 12 year old and excuse for the loss of memory and a chance of getting the hell off this world and into the next one.

So, chance of death, a good and bad thing or face extreme suspicion and a zero chance of escaping alive.

"Glad to see you awake Master Martyn" said a voice above me.

"who are you" I asked in a panicked voice 'real, not faked, I was scared shitless' "where am I"

"In the infirmary of Castorly Rock" the voice said

"whats Castorly Rock" I asked. "Is my Martyn my name?" I heard a female voice gasp and start crying.

"yes, young master, you must have lost your memories after you fell downs the stairs on your way to break fast a week ago. You broke your arm as well, it is set and will heal in a few months."

Stage 1 Plan A success.

1

(Tywin's POV)

It had been weeks since he had seen his brother's son, he did not sup with children present often, but, had made an exception to see his injured nephew. he had to make sure he wouldn't be a further embarrassment to the Lannister name. Falling down stairs is not befitting of a Lannister. A broken arm made it impossible for him to be a knight. If need be, he would be sent to the wall to cover the shame if he was simple minded after the head injury.

He sat at the head of the table, Tyrion thankfully absent.

"How are you" he asked the boy after the lemon cakes were served for desert.

"Well my Lord" the boy replied."How are you?"

Polite.

"I am well also" he told the boy.

"Are your studies going well?" he asked

"Wonderful my Lord"

-  
(Martyn's POV)

I need to impress Tywin for stage 2 of plan A to go forward, the use of my earth's knowledge is extremely here. I had spent the last few weeks remembering the wirtings of Sun Tzu and writing them down. The first chapter should seem poetic and enticing enough to gain his attention.

I gave a paper to my father(Kevan) with the five fundamentals and explanations for the way, heaven, earth, command, and, discipline. I asked him for his opinion on the writing and if I should continue.

I needed to start right off the bat, being perceived as a genius, a prodigy of the highest level. I needed to be out of Joffery and the bitch queen's reach. My voice and opinion needed to hold great weight.

Tywin was the key to this.

I was not a random person, I did not have the ability to skulk off into the relative safety of the tropical Summer Isles where they believe in 'free love' where there is no winter and the abundant fruit trees are always in bloom, or so I heard.

I did not care about the people of Westeros or the horrible destiny of the Starks. The only concern with the future Targaryen dragon riding Khaleesi, was getting the hell away.

Ser Kevan was very impressed and mystified how his 12 year old son could write something so inventive and urged me to continue.

I continued writing, going into the way of deception and strategic offensives. I stopped there, no need to educate these primitive medieval bastards too much.

My mannerisms did not seem like a childs, neither was my speech. I had many terms of phrase that no one had heard before, I heard many from the people around me that I had not heard before.

I had Tywin's attention. I was his squire a week after I gave my uncle the way of deception. Tywin was suitably impressed. An aging with Lord with no proper heir, one son an embarrassment, and the other sworn to father no children.

Maybe ROB wasn't such an asshole after all. I then remembered the Pizza Hut I would never see again, the Internet porn I had access to in the Earth I was from and my good feelings went away. Bastard.

Stage 2 plan A: Tywin hold great hopes for his highly intelligent nephew. Success.

1

(Tywin's POV)

"You sent for me my Lord?" asked his nephew. Standing in front of his desk in his study. The boys eyes were lowered, his clothes were neat, no scuffs on his polished leather boots, no twitching or nervousness in his posture. his arm was still in a sling. Perfect, always perfect, every time he had seen him since his fall. He did not look the same as he did before the loss of his memory. He did not act the same.

He was the mirror image of Jamie at the same age. Smarter though, without the rebellious attitude as well. Everything he could have wanted in a son. A pity it was his brother's son instead of his own.

"Yes, sit." he said pointing to a chair in front of him.

(Martyn's POV)

I sat, keeping my eye's down. My mind was focused on keeping the lessons I had learned on polite behavior from the Measter. I had planned what to say to any response Tywin had to the plagiarism I had made of Sun Tzu's Art of war.

"Why did you make this?" he asked, holding up the few pages I had written.

Time to lie my ass of and remember to keep a straight face. "I wished to bring honor to my house and to my name and show my father that even though I am crippled, I can still honor the name without becoming a great knight like he is."

"And you decided that writing military strategy was the way to do so?"

"I decided to write that for father because that was what he found interesting."

"Why did you not use this time you used writing this to catch up on the books you have read before and forgotten?"

"I have read all the books in the Lannister library my Lord." His eyebrows rose.

"All forty?"

It took great effort to keep the smirk off my face. These people had no clue about the wonders of reading mentally instead of out loud and did not have access to the amount of good reading material like I did in my past life to train the speed reading ability. Five weeks was less than I needed to demolish their "Library" of what they call "Books". A week was all it took to get used to their archaic spelling and handwriting instead of typed letters with even spacing. Thank Rob they speak and write English.

Casterly Rock was one of the few places in Westeros with even that many books.

"Yes, My lord"

"It took my son 10 years to do that"

I don't know how to answer that question.

"I'm sorry to hear that my Lord."

I fought hard to keep from smirking, and lost. Making fun of the sister-layer is too much for me. A corner of my lip curled for an instant before I could stop it. He caught sight of it. He leaned forward in his chair his brow lowered, eyes squint, cheeks slightly raised for a split second. A sign of contempt. He thinks I am lying.

"Who was the first Baratheon?"

"If you asked a Baratheon, they would say Durren. Truly though, it was Orys Baratheon" this answer was in two different books.

"What were the names of the dragons Aegon the first and his sisters rode?" in one book this time.

"Vhagar, Meraxes, and Balerion the Black Dread"

He leaned back into his chair, knowing that I had not lied.

"You are a clever boy" he said

"Thank you my Lord."

"I am assigning you to be my squire from now on."

Great, a backfire on that plan. I get to serve his wine and polish his armor.

"Thank you my Lord, It is a great honor" I barely keep the sarcasm from my voice. My face is stone once more.

"Be here at dawn for instructions" he ordered.

"Yes my Lord" I took that as a dismissal. I got up, bowed, and walked towards the door.

"And Martyn" he said from behind me. I turned around "Yes my Lord?"

"Address me as uncle"

I bow again "Have a nice day, uncle." I turn around and walk out the door, the guard shutting it behind me.

1

(Martyn's POV)

My father was so proud that he brought me a servant from Bravos, one trained in the art of water dancing. Water dancing being the art of sword-play with a light one handed sword, for speedy parries and quick stabs. I would never be able to use a two handed sword to its full potential with one weak arm and one strong one. The one handed one though, He wanted me to become an expert in.

I was training for long hours at this for anytime I had that I was not with Tywin in the evenings or mornings I was not needed.

Tywin mostly had me doing his paperwork and carrying messages. I was with him for most of the day, I even had my own chair that I waited at in the corner of his study. I was with him in all his meeting, kept track of his appointments and wrote letters that he needed dictated and sent when he was busy.

It boiled down to a glorified personal assistant.

The year was 296 AL, and I estimate that 3 years is all I have to be the fuck out of here and all I have done is make the castles cooks 'invent' a few new dishes and cooking techniques. I had pointed out to Tywin that the cooks touch his food with their damn dirty filthy fucking hands and that they needed to start using some lye soap to wash their hands every time they use the privy to keep our food clean.

I worked as a chef in my previous life and have some crazy(to them) ideas on food safety and sanitation.

A few months shy of my 'ten and third name-day', I had invented the # zero and shown our Measter its uses in mathematics. He raved about it to his fellow Measters and is writing a book about mathematics based on what I showed him. I could hardly believe they had survived this long without long division. Measters, world around, know my name and consider me a genius.

Tywin has slowly begun giving me orders that need actual thought to carry out. 'Settle this dispute between these common folk while I go to my study and write letters' kind of orders.

Its a lot harder to make two farmers arguing over the ownership of a pig shut up than you would believe.

I started keeping track of the loans and calculating the compound interest quickly. This was a great pride to my father and to Uncle Tywin. I became less of an assistant and more of confidant to my uncle. My polite charm and and dry humor, carefully maintained appearance and obvious intellect beyond anything Tywin had ever seen was a thing he treasured.

I was no longer a child in Tywins eyes, I never played childish games or got excited, never talked too much or gave advice in public. Never did I do anything but act the perfect lordling. The fact that I was so closely related to him was also a great pride.

Plan A was going well.

Finally, Tywin took a trip to King's Landing to meet with Lord Baelish about some loans and visit his spawn. It was equally humorous and sobering.

I had to get the hell off this continent of manipulative bastards, crazy drunk kings, and incestuous bitch queens, and, arrogant mad stupid princes.

-  
"I will see you at dawn in my chambers" He said to me "do as you like until then." he added. I bowed and backed out of the room containing Lord Tywin and Lord Baelish.

I was a week over thirteen now and was a little closer to having the ability to flee to the Summer Isles, not that anyone knew that was my intention.

I could have fucked around with the plot of the books and changed some things for the better for some people, but, that just wasn't me. I may have liked the characters in the books and tv show based on the world I was in, but, this is reality and I was not going to risk my neck or be burned alive for making someone king of this land or fight for some stupid concept of honor or glory invented by these barbaric assholes who don't use toilet paper.

The Red Keep was absolutely beautiful though.

It was a Sunday, the King never holds court on weekends, so the throne-room should be empty. I wanted to see how big the dragon skulls really were.

There were a few ladies in the throne room talking, they ignored me as I walked passed them. I was a child still in the eyes of wall were a deep red, the color of blood. on the walls were mounted heads, small near the entrance of the throne room, about the sixe of a dogs head and growing larger from there. Above the throne was a massive skull, as large as a T-Rex I had seen at the Smithsonian in D.C. in my other life. It was black though, and shining like obsidian glass.

"Who are you?" I heard a boys voice behind me. I didn't answer to any boys.

I replied without turning around, a mistake on my part. "No one."

"I am the Prince and you will answer my questions!" "Seize him!"

I whirled around and before I could apologize, I saw a huge fist coming towards my face.

Then darkness.

1

I was dragged into a cell and chained to a wall.

I then had the ever living shit beaten out of me. One eye was swollen shut and by the pain from breathing, I am sure I have at least one broken rib. No questions were thrown my way, just fists. I don't know where they learned torture, but, a few punches is not what I call pain. A few years in the BDSM party scene in my previous life taught alot about real pain and the dull thuds of fists into my flesh were nothing compared to what I done for fun previously.

I'm pretty sure my grin just pissed the guy off more. Didn't he know that after a few hits, the dopamine and other natural painkillers kick in? I was pretty numb after a couple knocks to the head and had forgotten where the hell I was.

"thud" into my ribs "My grandmother hits harder than that."

"thud" a softer hit into my temple, I black out for a few seconds( I think it was seconds, I don't black out long usually)

"I've smelled diapers stronger than that"

"crack" a slap onto the side of my face, long numb by now. I was passed the point of sanity at this point. Every hit was a pleasure.

"Do you go to school to learn to hit like a girl?"

This was getting fun, Had he ever met a sadomasochist before?

I heard the cell door open, followed by a voice yelling "What the hell are you doing?"

I replied to the voice in an insane rasping voice "Whos interrupting the scene? I didn't call red yet!"

I was delirious out of my mind now. I had never had such an intense scene before and was really getting into it! I loved the thuddy and hated stingy, and this was all thuddy.

"Get him down and take him to Pycelle" I heard an angry voice growl

"I wasn't done yet motherfucker" I yelled

"Wait your turn" I growled.

I hate DMs always getting in the way of a good scene.

I saw a white blob in front of me and kicked at it.

"He's definitely a Lannister"

And then I blacked out for awhile.

-  
(Tywin's POV)

"Why is my squire beaten half to death in the black cells?" I asked looking at my Grandchild.

"He refused an order from the Prince" offered the hound.

I feel my face get hot and my hands shake. I point to the hound "Get out" he bows and leaves.

Joffery looks paler than usual and is silent for once.

Jamie looks at me "Hes tougher than he looks, took a lot of torture and gave out nothing but insults in return. Pounder said he went at him as hard as he could with out breaking bones for three hours."

Cersei is also pale, Martyn looks just like her brother. She had seen what he looks like after he was taken to Maester Pycelle. "Well? Why did this happen?" I asked again.

Cersei replied "A mistake that won't happen again, Father" "Joffery has learned his lesson."

Joffery nods silently.

-  
(Martyn's POV)

Ugh. I must have drank and smoked something bad last night. I feel horrible. My head aches and my mind still feels foggy.

What was I doing last night?

Then the memory returned. Met the Prince, Got my ass kicked, Saved by a white cloak. Just about sums it up.

I groaned. "Awake young Master?"

"Give me a fucking moment" was my reply.

"More milk of the poppy?"

"Yeah"

Blackness again.

In and out of dreams.

Awake for moments to eat, then dreams again.

A squirrel stole my spaghetti dammit, and ran out the window with it.

I cursed up a storm to the red blob that visited me.

I cursed at the white blob after that for interrupting my scene. "Pig fucking pussy piece of shit" was the first thing that comes to mind.

Milk of the poppy was a powerful drug.

1

In a few weeks, I was weaned off the heroin. No one visited during this time, by my own request. I have a foul mouth with my conscious mind can't control the raging inferno that in my subconscious. No need to start trouble by calling the queen an incestuous bitch, which I apparently did at one point. She was the red blob.

The bruises had faded and no ribs were broken thankfully. I would have a scar on my right eyebrow for the rest of this life though. At least no one takes what is said under the influence of milk of the poppy seriously or take insult to it. when I had regained strength enough to walk, I walked to the throne room of the Red Keep.

What happened was still technically my fault and I knew what had to be done if I was going to come out of this one on top.

Ass-kissing.

I was heralded to the King and knelt before the King.

"I apologize for my rudeness to your son, Prince Joffery Baratheon and beg forgiveness for my actions. I was out of line for not answering his question when he asked."

I must have picked a bad time to apologize because what I got was. "Get the King-slayer out of my sight"

Drunk asshole. I must really look like that white cloaked bastard.

Next was to Queen Cersei

"I apologize for my unkind words to you a couple of weeks ago and for my rudeness to your son and beg forgiveness for my actions against you and dishonoring our house."

"You didn't do anything wrong dear boy and there is nothing to apologize for you did not dishonor the house of Lannister, Joffery dishonored the house of Baratheon with his actions and has been suitably punished"

"Punished? Your grace?"

"Yes, His whipping boy received 20 lashes as punishment" Bastards...

"Why don't you have some tea with me?" she asked smiling at me in a very non-family-like way.

If I was really 13 or knew nothing about her, I might have fallen for it. I unfortunately for her had read the books and knew her better than her brother or father did.

"I am sorry, I must get back to to my Lord sooner, rather than later. I hope you stay as beautiful as you are forever and bid you good day your grace"

That stupefied the shit out out of her, I don't think anyone has ever turned her down before, let alone so nicely. I took the chance to bow low and back out of her solar. before she snapped out of it. I must really look like the white cloaked Sister-fucker. She may be able to seduce Lancel Rainbow knight fucking Lannister, my brother, But she wouldn't get me. Hell no.

Back to Casterly Rock where plan B is needed, I had just ruined plan A.

Plan B was going to be a lot more difficult.

I was really getting into this now though, by the time it is 300 A.L. , I would be in much better position to flee than now.

I had also learned a lesson. Take a few guards with me everywhere, even to the bathroom.

1

(Martyn POV)  
If I were anyone else, I would be brooding like a vampire over the beating I received at the order of the stupid blond cousin of mine. I am lucky enough to know his fate though and hold no hard feelings. How can you plot a better death than the one he will receive in a few years?

He dies on his wedding day, a virgin, choking on his own liquefied innards. I doubt I could beat G.R.R.M's cruelty.

I could try though.

Every Self Insert fan fiction I have ever read, has the author doing heroic and plot changing stuff, saving the characters they like and becoming ultimate bad-asses. I am not so stupid as to tempt fat in such a way, I want to keep on living. My self-preservation instincts are strong.

I feel the time until it gets really dangerous around here approaching. My instincts are telling me to flee to the hills. I look too much like the sister-layer to be safe anywhere once the shit hits the fan.

Its hard not to laugh in Tywin's face when he is impressed with Disney ripoffs.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
(Tywin's POV)

"The Lion Prince?" I asked

"Yes, my Lord. I wrote it for Prince Joffery as an apology, I hope he likes it." Said my favorite nephew.

"It is the best book I have ever read, I am sure he will enjoy it." I told him

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
(Martyn's POV)

It has been 6 months since I visited King's Landing. Plans for escape were abandoned. A year of manipulating people and living with savages without telephones had changed me.

You become attached when having power over people, and as they say, power corrupts. I no longer had any plans of hiding in tropical paradise, I would vacation there with a fleet of beautiful girls and mountains of gold.

I now am a knight. The youngest in two centuries. I am also considered an adult now and receive monthly tribute from the many gold mines in the Lannister lands. For more gold than I could carry, every phrase 'rich as a Lannister' comes to mind.

I am now released from the the duties of a squire and can make my own decisions on how to use my gold.

Having no lands or titles, being a third son and all, I decided to go into the merchant business. My oldest brother has yet to take his vows to the faith and my twin is not murdered by the Karstarks yet.

I asked for and received 30 Lannister guardsmen without families for my first trip alone, there are thousands and 30 is a small tithe. I traveled the gold road the King's Landing, there I haggled with a Mryish Captain for the price of a voyage to Pentos for myself, my water dancer, and, guards. my guardsmen were for the chest of gold dragons I was bringing with me, not myself.

It took a week to sail out of Blackwater bay and another week to set my feet down in Pentos. According the the rumors my guards heard, the Dothraki had been here a month before and left.

Time was ticking.

I would have gone to the Summer Isles, but, I got the scent of gold up my nose and it was clouding my common sense.

I was rich. Ha ha!I needed to be richer to survive what was coming in the books and

I bought a small manse in Pentos and got a feel for the city. It was more primitive and disgusting then Westeros to my 21st century morality. I can understand the weird hair styles and obviously corrupt ruling council in such a primitive culture. Human sacrifice on the other hand? Fuck no, I'm not staying here. Karma is a bitch and these guys have it coming just like the Westrosi.

I had my guards take a male teen orphan each as an 'assistant' off the streets of that cheese mongering flea pit. I made them shave their heads and start learning the Common tongue and practice with the sword. I didn't need an army, just some guards that can fight off bandits when I need to ship something from Pentos. I fed them well, gave them a day off every week. After I bought the teens and guards 3 pleasure slaves from the Pentos markets for them to share, I was considered the best master they had ever heard of.

Young men are far too easy to lead around by their dicks.

I left 20 guards in my manse in Pentos to guard the gold there and drill the local orphans in Westrosi swordplay.

I sailed back to King's Landing with a ship full of Pentoshi servants and Myrish silk, bought with my own gold. I sold it all in minutes off the ship, they love the subservience of servants from the free cities and the ladies of King's Landing were always short on silk.

Jon Arryn had died 2 weeks previous and the royal court had hit the King's road a few days previous to my landing.

Time was flying fast.

It was having to much fun being a rich merchant to stop.

The expenses of my manse and voyage were bade back from the sale I and returned home to Darry, where the tribute to the branch house of Darry Lannisters is sent. My mother and father were happy to see me again. I stayed for a week and visit with them and see my newborn sister.

I collected the tributes of the tributes given in the few months I was gone and left in a hurry. Not need for someone to find out I had this much gold with me.

The need was to find a place to lay low for awhile and make some more money. The quality of life in the world was in this order.

#1 Qarth

#2 Assai

#3 Yin

#4 Volantis

#5 Summer isles

I would need to have a-lot of gold to work my way up to living in absolute luxury and power.

Could I have used this gold to help feed the poor or send an army of supplies and soldiers to the wall? Yes.

Was I going to? No.

Did I care what happens to the people of Westeros? Yes.

Did I care enough? No.

And this is where the real story begins.


	2. Chapter 2

If I want to truly profit, I am going to need a niche to fill in this world's economy. The hard part is that there is no middle class like where I am from.

There are the rich, who have much and can afford to buy much. They are a small part of the population population of the world.

Then there are the poor, who have little and can afford little and earn little. They are the large percent of the world.

Shipping goods is horrendously expensive compared to the 21st century. There are no cargo ships that carry 100,000 tons of cargo in perfect safety across seas in days.

What I know will happen within the next few years is war. Lots and lots of wars. Wars to beggar kingdoms, sell-swords, hired abundantly. Weapens bought and sold by the ship-load. Armour and swords, axes and swords forged by the ton. Armies of men, paid and bellies full after battles end, redistributing wealth as fast as the feet will allow.

I have the learnings to draw upon of the greatest generals and leaders of thousands of years and thousands of battles. A whole world these cretins had never dreamed of. two thousand years ago, great empires of my world had fielded million man armies. Of years gone through rapid industrialization and the most destructive wars of all time.

From Xenophron to Juvani, Ceaser to Swift, Machiavelli to Suvorov, Nelson to Bonaparte, Tse-Tung to MacArthur and hundreds of others.

Fuck these dirt-piles that they call castles and the slap fights they call battles. The greatest fight these fuckers have had was against the white walkers 8000 years previous where maybe, 100,000 people might have died.

I am from a world where 2,000,000 men died in one battle.

I know why ROB sent me to live in the Lannister body. To give me a taste of power and a deadline where I know it will be lost.

I will not give this up. The power to give and take life, the chance to stand above other men and proclaim myself superior. In the deepest part of my soul, I had known this and could not accept it until now. To pit my mind against an entire worlds.

From a world where a you can study the minds of the greatest leaders to ever exist at the click of a button to a world where men must dig their destinies out of dirt with sticks.

I would crush them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Upon my return to Pentos, my goal had changed. I did not wish to be another would-be King scrabbling over the great metal chair like the others. I needed to overcome the crazy odds against me.

I had little time left to do so.

These fuckers did not grow out of the same primordial ooze that I did. They may be human, like my world's human, but, I felt no kinship with them. As with all men here, they believe strongly in a deity. It is part of the human mind to need something greater than yourself. I had two needs first and foremost to create an army large enough to challenge the world.

Gold and God.

With all of the psychology classes in college, the horror movies I've seen and the stories I've read, God will be the easy part.

I put on red silk pants and no shirt or shoes. A highly venomous silver serpent was tied around my waist as a belt. I had three of my very confused guards hold a large ram above me and cut it's throat, covering me in blood.10 leather bags were given to ten orphan boys, with particular orders whispered into their ears and a promise of a new set of whores for them if they did as I said.

I had spent a few months last year to learn High Valyrion as it is spoken in many free cities for trade and travel purposes. I have thought long and hard on the abilities shown by the warlock of Qarth, the red priests and the faceless men.

If they had actual gods that were omnipotent, they would have had access to all the information in my mind from the beginning. Either they exist or they don't. If they exist, one of them at least supports me, if they don't... who really gives a flying fuck?

Not me.

Not with what I'm about to do.

It was the harvest celebration. People were in the streets, drunk and celebrating. The prince of Pentos had just been sacrificed on an alter as thanks for the great harvest. The spirit of the people were high and their dopamine and adrenaline were rushing. The prince was sacrificed in the center of the city. In the center of the city were where most of the people were. The predominant religion on this continent, Essos, was the worship of R'hllor, The lord of light.

A red comet had suddenly appeared in the sky to the east, heading south. I knew that Daenerys would follow that to Qarth. The comet drove the people into a higher frenzy.

"BANG"

The bonfire in the center of the city, in front of the sacrificial alter for Princes of Pentos of the blew apart, killing one of my orphan guards and a few other unlucky people standing too close to it. Burning logs flew into the air. One log crashed into the temple of the local Pentoshi gods. Around the city, 9 similar explosions were set off after the first one.

Women and men screamed, the smell of brimstone filled the air, clouded in smoke. Everyone that knew anything about R'hllor knew that brimstone was a sacred element of fire. People were covering their heads from the burning remnants falling down around them.

I was was standing on top of the Prince's body when the smoke began to clear, most people in the square were shaking in fear. The smell scared them almost as much as the sound of the black powder.

I took a deep breath and screamed over the crowd of people.

"I AM MARTYN THE SON OF R'HLLOR AND I HAVE A MESSAGE FOR THE WORLD"

I made sure that I would look frightening to these people. The color red and the blood dripping from me struck a primal instinct inside of them that made them want to cower.

"I HERALD THE ARRIVAL OF AZOR AHAI AND THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS"

"I HAVE COME TO SAVE YOU FROM THE LAST BATTLE BETWEEN THE NAMELESS ONE AND THE LORD OF LIGHT"

People did not know what to think at first and were silent and staring, until one of my Lannister guards in the crowd gave out a yell I had payed him well for.

"HAIL THE SAVIOR"

The mob mentality kicked in and the people began chanting.

"HAIL THE SAVIOR"

The power of forceful suggestion under stressful situations coupled with mob mentality is a powerful thing.

"HAIL THE SAVIOR"

"THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS IS ON HER WAY TO QARTH NOW WITH HER BABIES TO BRING JUSTICE TO THE EVIL WARLOCKS GUILD THERE"

"HAIL THE SAVIOR"

I needed to keep this going.

"THE SERVANTS OF THE GREAT OTHER ARE RAISING THEIR ARMIES OF THE DEAD TO MAKE BATTLE WITH THE LIVING"

"HAIL THE SAVIOR"

More people were crowding into into the square.

"YOU HAVE SEEN MY POWER, WILL YOU FIGHT FOR THE LIGHT AND LIFE WITH ME?"

"HAIL THE SAVIOR"

Alcohol addled and scared primitives do as the others around them do. It is human nature to conform and blend in with your peers. Really, they had no choice but to do as I told them.

They were mystified.

Captivated.

The chanting made them feel better.

Endorphins were rushing in their excitement.

They were putty in my hands.

"START BY DESTROYING THE CORRUPT MEN WHO OPPRESS YOU HERE IN THIS CITY FOR THE COUNCIL AND THE PRIESTS OF FOREIGN GODS ARE SERVANTS OF THE NAMELESS ONE IN DISGUISE"

The city was mine.

I like being Jesus.

I swear, I didn't tell them to burn all the Pentos nobles alive.

I just wanted them dead. The nobles had been fucking over the commoners since the doom of Valyria four centuries previously. They obviously had a lot of aggression to work out. There was no noble left alive in Pentos by sun up. Those that did not get slaughtered like pigs in their elaborate mansions were burned alive in a gigantic bonfire dedicated to me and my 'Father'.

There were a lot of merchant ships with dead owners. A lot of vaults without owners. I had my holy militia confiscate them in the name of R'hllor. There was little resistance to my takeover of the city. A couple hundred thousand fanatical pissed off people in a gigantic lynch mob tends to make household guards wet their pants.

The city watch were re-named the Holy Militia of Pentos. Their uniforms dyed red. I set them to keep order and stop any looting or lawlessness in its tracks. Recruiting was started heavily. 20,000 Trained and combat ready. Enough to defend the walls from attack from the Dothraki or another 'free' city, not enough for an offensive force of any strength.

All temples to the seven and other gods were destroyed. The priests were put to the sword and their wealth confiscated.

I visited the only Red Temple in Pentos the day after the harvest and spoke with the head priest there privately. My demands were gratefully accepted. I needed the the equivalent to secret police.

My demands were this:

Never publicly or privately speak ill of me.

Never allow another faith get a foothold in this city or the surrounding lands.

Kill anyone speaking up against the worship of me or R'hllor.

Never use their powers for anything other than the furthering of the influence of the faith and following my orders.

No more spells that require human sacrifice to power unless it is on a criminal sentenced to death.

No more buying slave children to be raised as temple prostitutes to fund the temple.

In return I will let them live.

I will give them special privileges to find and execute all dissenters to my holy rule.

I will give them the gold needed to fund all temple services which are to include:

Orphanages built for all children in Holy Pentos until the age of 14 where by they may join the priesthood if they with or go on to other trades at their own choice.

A new temple was to be built in every corner of the city where services were to be held 7 days a week.

All priests must go out and preach their asses off about the evils of of disobeying the son of the one true god.

The temple collects 1/7th of the sell price of all imported goods coming into Holy Pentos and holds it in my name for use at my discretion.

The temple provided or found jobs for all unemployed men and women in the city wishing for work. Faming, building, cleaning, soldier recruiting ect.

The head priest Ezzo, was ecstatically happy to hear such demands. The spread of his faith beyond anything present in the world other then In Assai itself. I believe that he truly thinks I am the son of R'hllor. I wasn't going to tell him the truth, or question the ease of my takeover.

I took a couple of days to draw up a few plans and make a few sketches of thing I wanted built.

The city's best craftsmen to start manufacturing as many quality repeating cross with a bayonet as they could and to train apprentices as quickly as they could to do the same. The repeating cross bow is a very simple mechanism and can piece a knight's armor easily with a direct hit. They would be an effective force multiplier against massed melee enemies and and close quarters. I also had a few giant non repeating crossbows made to be mounted on the ships I had taken. I made sure all the crossbow fired bolts of the same size.

I took the sadly deceased former magistrate Illiyro's palace as my own. His servants as well.

My power was consolidated within a knew that Martyn Lannister was the spirit of R'hllor, given flesh.

The red priests were very very good at finding and burning anyone who spoke against me, there were very few. The common people loved me and there were not many rich people left alive in the whole city. I expect the one of the Vary's spies had taken the news of my takeover to King's landing at this point. I also don't know if my cousin Tyrion had been taken captive in the Vale yet.

I didn't interfere with trade in the city other than laying a tax on the Imports, I didn't have the infrastructure of government in place to do more. I knew that fucking up trade was bad for everyone. I started buying all surplus grain and food shipped to the city, as well as all iron and other metals not bought by merchants.

A raven was received at the end of my second week of ruler-ship of Holy Pentos from King's Landing.

In the name of King Joffery Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,

You are ordered to present yourself at The Red Keep to pledge allegiance and fealty to him.

Like hell I will.

Not replying was the best option here, but, I wanted to fuck with him.

My reply was thus.

To the King of Westeros, Nuts.

I don't think he will get the reference, but, I find it highly amusing. I have more ships confiscated from the nobles of old pentos then Highgarden and Dragonstone combined. The mercantile number of ships was far higher here than anywhere in Westeros. Bravos and Volantis could still be trouble at this point if they put all their weight behind it.

I knew he would be too busy soon, to round up a fleet large enough to face me anytime soon, if ever. Uncle Tywin is unlikely to allow his grandson to face a man who conquered an entire city-state in half a year from setting foot on it, alone.

Robb Stark should be calling in his banners right about now, as will Tywin.

Time is ticking.

Making the hundreds of craftsmen specialize in working on one piece of the 'Pentoshi Crossbows' at a time and making them all uniform is a roaring success. Their apprentices have easily taken over production for the most part. Carving a few simple pieces of wood were not hard to learn. I was getting a few hundred of these every day, a week into my rule of Pentos. Bolts were produced far faster.

Training the Holy Militia in the use of such was not difficult. The orders, aim and pull the lever were stupidly simple. Women and children could lay waste to any army trying to siege Pentos in minutes.

Why the Chinese had not conquered the world 2400 years ago after the invention of these things? I will never know for sure.

I needed to create a more stable economy than the one that Pentos had. I had the funds available to do it. I turned a hundred noble mansions into public housing for the homeless beggars littering the streets. I offered thin soup and bread for a copper penny at any of them. The Red priests were invaluable here. A ready source of laborers ready to be put to work was extremely useful.

Every man in the city wanted to be part of the Holy Militia. The new weapons and new red uniforms with the dark red heart of R'hllor were very popular. Symbols are very powerful tools for manipulating the hearts and minds of people. I had red hearts put up everywhere a symbol of old pentos once stood. I had learned this lesson from the Bible. Soldiers were sworn to service on the heart, worn on their sleeves. Stone pillars raised all over the city with the Red heart of R'hllor mounted on the top.

People would kill and die over a Cross or Star of David, far more readily than they would for men. Symbols make lasting impressions on people. The smiles on peoples faces were telling. Commerce boomed with more people having money. They bought food and cloth, red mostly. Spices and furniture. Cups and shoes.

I set masses of men and women onto public works and paid them all a steady wage. They used the wage to donate to my Temple and feed themselves, gamble and drink. They were as happy a month into my rule more than they had ever been.

Recruiting of soldiers was going well I doubled their number in less than a month, only picking the strongest young males first. I had outfitted 10,000 Militia with repeating crossbows already with production growing faster daily. Whores were making a killing with almost everyone making money now.

There was no end to the potential profit to be made from trade. I continued refitting the various merchant ships(400) I owned with mounted ballista and continued repairs. A few were scrapped as they were too old and needed constant repairs to keep afloat. They were of various makes and models, almost no uniformity in them. Not usable for war ships, but, needed for continued trade and worthy for troop transports.

I filled 20 ships with cheese and sent them to Lannisport as a gift(the cheese, not the ships) to my uncle along with my no longer needed Lannister guards. I also sent a letter with them for my uncles eyes only. Every ship had 20 Militia guards on it and at least one ballista. The Ironborn pillage at their own risk. Wearing armor on the sea would not save them from my militia's bolts.

Ezzo who was an extremely devout worshiper of me, made prayers in my name and my 'Fathers' that were sung over the whole city every evening. People quickly joined in and sang along.

A drunk man pissed on a pillar with a red heart without thinking during a evening prayer song. He was ripped to pieces by an angry mob.

Brain-washing was going as planned.

All within a month.


	3. Chapter 3

The problem with creating a strong economy in Holy Pentos, was not that I did not have Ideas on how to do so, It was the time it would take to turn this dirt-hole into a real City-State. I had no choice though at this point. My rule was began with a bold move, I had to make another bold move to move forward.

"We cannot abide slavery in these dark days, For the night is dark and full of terrors!"

My words are law.

"Slavery is a tool of the Dark One!"

Priests began to preach that the Great Mother would soon assault Slaver's Bay with her Dragons and lay low the sinful city of Astapor with a army of freed slaves. Word would not reach them to give warning until well after it had already happened. News of the the Mother of Dragons showing up out of the Red Waste and living in Qarth had just reached here a few days previous from merchants in the very fast(comparatively) Swan ships used by the (by now dead)Spice King to ship spices from Qarth.

It had been 4 months since the comet in the sky had heralded the coming of the dragons and myself. Since then, I had trained and outfitted half the city with Pentoshi Crossbows, non-Militia and women and children included. They were all embossed with a flaming heart. Those not in the Militia had to buy them though. The majority of people in the city earned their wages from working for me. Most of the things they bought came from me on top of that.

All ships and caravans carrying grain or fruit, vegetables or salted meat had their cargoes bought by me at a set price, that were then sold to my people by me. The farmers and herders had the same deal. The profits profit made from the people was mostly used to earn more profit by giving more people jobs to make money that they will then spend.

A cycle of growth.

I made a chain of command for the Militia that went like this.

Trooper, lowest rank, most of the militia were this.  
Sargent, in charge of 50 Troopers each. A Finger  
Lieutenant, in charge of 5 Sargents. A Fist  
Captain, in charge of 10 Lieutenants. An Arm  
General, with 4 Captains, they controlled 10,000 men each. A Legion.  
Sacred Marshall, Myself. commander of 40,000

Every General answered only to me. I hand picked generals and captains all. Young and charismatic, they were very eager to follow the orders of their new Lord. I kept the old city guard of old Pentos as a city watch and defenders in case of attack. The original 20,000 men were enough for this purpose.

I had the other 20,000 fresh recruits renamed to Legionaries and begin field exercises for offensive and ranging actions.

Scouts were designated to men that were not as good working with others and trained by experienced hunters in stalking. I made a Ghillie suit in a couple hours experimenting and snuck up on during their stalking training and scared the shit out of them. They started making their own after that and loved me even more.

I went with the first legion on their first week long ranging. I had them put up palisades and dig trenches around camp every evening and burn the palisades and fill in the trenches every morning. We practiced marching and maneuvers all they saw me digging with them, they worked with renewed vigor. If the son of god does it, so must they.

I taught my untested young captains and generals everything I felt they needed to know about managing a battlefield. I had only read books, but, they were good ones. I taught them that if there was no way to win a fight, to make a strategic withdrawal and how to conduct guerrilla warfare on the run. I taught how to pick a campsite, post sentries and use scouts and outriders effectively. All the lessons of Sun Tzu I could remember.

Unlike the Militia, Legionaries were issued crossbows with straps that hung the crossbow on their backs for when not in use. They were also given large red painted oval shields that covered knee to neck, made of laminated wood covered in leather a flaming heart in the center. The shield could also be slung across the back. Spiked throwing axes were the melee weapon I chose for them to use.

Ezzo started crying when he saw the first shield.

A shield wall with axes and crossbow bolts flying should be an effective fighting force against men of this age.

Some troopers were designated as engineers, whose job it was to build siege machines and repair broken crossbows, wagons or axes. Some were cooks, some medics and some others for relaying were taught to maneuver to the sound of drums and horns as well as yelled orders.

They were loyal only to their officers and myself. The officer's were loyal to the one who took them off the streets and gave them everything they had in life.

In the city, I had written God's Laws, and said they were relayed by my father.

Do not kill in rage.

Do not rape.

Do not enslave.

Do not lay with your family.

Do not take what does not belong to you.

All were punished by Immolation of the soul.

I know, death for thievery was a bit stiff, but I needed honest hard workers. Not one handed burdens. Even if I were to die tomorrow, the laws I set now would continue to be followed. I had too many true believers for there not to be.

Eddard Stark is dead, Jamie Lannister is soon to be captured.

I needed to blood my troops before training more.

Scouts had spotted a large Dothraki Khalasar were headed this way, looking for a bribe to not pillage my state too badly. Too bad for them.

All of the Free Cities of Essos lie on a region that is called the Hills of Norvos. For the most part, the land is similar to the country of Greece. A few low mountains, large hills and steep cliffs. Narrow passes and goat trails to pass though these mountains are common.

I brought the Burning Son's Legion with me for this battle. Thorin their General had won the honor over a game of poker(I taught them) with his brother Thorvin, General of the Flames of Victory Legion.

I would have liked to blood them both, but, my logistics would not allow it. I could not control 20,000 men at once and did not trust my junior officers enough to give them creative license to give battle orders independently yet. I was going to show my men the reason why they should conduct battle the way I set for them. I ordered camp set up and sent the outriders ranging. The boys didn't move like a well oiled machine I wanted but they put effort into it and had the Palisade walls up and the trenches almost done by sunset. 1,000 of them were a day behind, and were guarding a fall-back position at the mouth of a narrow pass leading through the mountains behind us. The majority of the livestock and grain wagons we had brought for supplies were at the fall-back position and would be escorted daily by 100 men as needed for the 9,000 troops I had with me.

According to the scouts, The Dothraki Khalasar were still two days away from here, heading this way at a slow pace, Burdened by the children and slaves they took with them. Their numbers are between 15 and 20 thousand, women, children and slaves included.

Plenty of time to chose the place I would make them die. With the way they were to travel, they would have to go over one small stream and through a trail in a thick forest and over a few hills. With a Khalasar this big, I can take nothing for granted.

I have the knowledge of the terrain from the local hunters that live here.

I have the knowledge of how the Dothraki fight.

I have abundant and protected supply line.

I have a clear chain of command and orderly soldiers.

They are disorganized, forage for food, have little chain of command and feel safe here.

They have better mobility than I and more experienced warriors.

Warriors, not soldiers.

I must take away their advantages and strengthen my own.

Not very hard to do to these simple savages.

We moved into the forest the next day. No palisades were erected, though trenches were dug, we had to shit somewhere. All wagons were left behind, no Campfires were lit, the smoke would be visible for miles.

On either side of the forest were mountains that would take a week to go around on either side. Horses could not climb mountains and the rocky ground in the this region was tough on them as it was.

Most of the men were told to sleep early before the sun was down. A few others had other jobs to do.

(Martyn's POV)

I was on horse back in the middle of the night. The moon was half full and and there was still some light for the horse to see a few meter ahead. I trotted slowly, this horse was well rested and fresh. My officers had their orders, my being there would only interfere with what they had to do. I only had 100 men with me. We trotted slowly and quietly closer to the light of the Dothraki's camp fires. My weak right arm held the reins, an axe was in the right.

The cool night air felt much better than the warm humidity of the day.

Almost everyone was asleep, a dozen men were still awake where we entered the camp, night-blinded by being near camp fires. They were tired and almost dozing when we kicked the horses into gallop. I made my first real kill there. Ordering executions don't count. My axe got stuck into the first head I struck and was jerked from my hand when the body fell, twitching and contorting as bodies do from such brain injuries.

"Move out" I yelled. Dothraki were awakening and running out of tents naked with swords in their hands, heads clouded with sleep. Women screamed, children woke and began crying, men yelled out after us. They saw which way we went and how few we were. We galloped toward the forest, about ten minutes ride away. We stopped half way there on a small hill and waited, out of sight in the dark.

It was late and we had only killed a few. Such loses happen to night watchmen, it is known. We were few and number and the men would follow our tracks and hunt us down in the morning. The men were tired and needed more sleep. The panicking women and children on the other-hand, were loud. when one child starts crying aloud in the middle of the night, many start crying in the middle of the night.

Mothers moved to comfort their crying children. Screams started again from the slaves captured the day before getting a new round of rape from the awakened men who wished for such things now that the crowd around them earlier had mostly gone to sleep.

To put it simply, it was loud.

It was loud and dark and they could not see beyond their camp fire's light.

Far too loud to hear what was slowly creeping towards them in the dark.

Horns sounded in the in the distance from the camp. A few drums were heard.

9,000 crossbow bolts flew through the air. Most falling far too short. Another 9,000 a second after that, a little closer. 9,000 more bolts flew through though the air. Screams grew louder. People were confused. People awoke in panic hearing horns and screams. Watching from a small hill, far away from sight of the Dothraki, I grinned. It was like watching an ant nest that just got stepped on.

Chaos.

My arm was raised with a closed fist the drummers stopped beating.

I ordered the horn blowers to signal the men ahead 100 paces.

The horns blew two long blasts and one short one.

The marching was close enough for them to hear now at the edges of their large camp.

I raised my arm with my hand opened to the drummers behind me. A slow beat began. Fire at will.

The bolts flew again. volley after volley as the men advanced. The Khalasar was tired and worn after a long day of riding and pillaging, reeving, and raping. Sleep deprived and drunk or hungover still. They were dead before this battle even began.

They just didn't know it.

A first victory for the Burning Sons and Myself.


	4. Chapter 4

By the come of dawn, no bloodrider was left alive. I had ordered the men to stay together in the shield wall and fire volleys angled over the heads of their brother servants of God. Four shield bearers were shot in the back of the head by my clumsy under-trained troops. They were permanently assigned to the Holy Militia as punishment(not that I told them that). Two hundred loses and another hundred injured. With 9,100 of mine, v.s. 18,000 panicking tired savages, I was pissed off about the high number of losses.

Until I saw how much loot these fuckers carried around with them. Worth it, for sure.

A few groups of the knock-off Huns had managed to regroup and charged my line in mass, almost breaking through. They were quickly flanked and shot though.

I went through the camp with my Legionaries and a couple red priests body-guarding. Orders of euthanasia were given for any survivor, slave, blood-rider, or, child. I did not have the infrastructure to re-educate them and I did not want them waiting for vengeance behind my back. Or holding any claim to the riches in the camp. The bodies were dragged away and burned.

Life giving generosity has never been my strong suit.

As a Dothraki lives, he rapes and pillages as he goes. Collecting the objects of others throughout his life. Every small town a Khalasar comes to is put to the sword and enslaved. Large settlements with walls and an army will be forced to pay tribute, with lots of gold, textiles, and, slaves included. They did not trade their gold away or keep it for the purpose of buying anything.

They hoarded it. Lots and lots of it. More than I had dreamed existing in any one place. no one had resisted these fuckers for a long time by the looks of it and they had tribute from all over Essos of centuries. More than 10 King's ransom. Gold and silver beyond counting lied here.

Messengers were sent for the supply wagons. My men were given orders to make camp.

I had set out to blood my troops.

A success.

A smile was on my face and my men's.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Back in Holy Pentos, I led a parade of men through the streets back to my manse. The killing of a horde that size had never been done before in memory of these people. I was Julius Ceaser, back from Gaul.

The red priests and I milked it for all it's worth. Further proof of my Divinity they preached to the masses.

I had no trouble with recruiting after that.

A few months after the defeat, I took almost the entire younger generation of men in Holy Pentos and conscripted them to the Legions, to defend Life and Light, I said.

They joined willingly and happily.

Of a city with 1,500,000 people, Pentos was the largest of the free cities. I had one in ten training their asses off in the name of God. Fanatics, every one. These people could not stand against the overwhelming peer pressure I put them under to conform with each-other and obey my orders happily.

When everyone around you does the same thing, your friends and mother tell you it is the right thing. You think to yourself, What will They think of me if I am not like the others. You conform. That is the power of propaganda.

That is the power of peer-pressure.

10 Legions of untested boys, able to march and shoot. No use letting them go to waste.

Daenerys should be in Astapor by now and marching to Yunkai.

Tywin, losing every battle, winning the war with Robb.

Robb, winning every battle, losing the war Tywin.

Stannis, brooding like a vampire, about to attack King's Landing.

Renly, recently deceased.

Balon Greyjoy, all around butt pirate.

-

The army that I now controlled was the largest single standing army in the world. Like Germany in the early 1900s my technology and infrastructure was ahead of my neighbors, enough to support the worlds largest army when used correctly.

I had a very large skilled(for this world) labor force at this point. Taxing the spice and and other goods, passing through my city's harbor and gates paid less now than the state run public houses and restaurants I funded. A few large Blessed casinos/brothels catering to the newly created middle class citizens and soldiers made more than both combined.

Investing gold into creating jobs and keeping the growth going were paying off in spades. People were spending gold like it was too hot to hold while the economy and trade soared.

My city had never been richer. With the 'Kings' in Westeros busy, The cities in New Ghis under siege by Daenarys and Tyrosh, Myr, and, Lys in the middle of a three-way war over the Disputed Lands between them, I was overlooked.

I had no wish to take over Westeros at this time, taking it would be easy, holding it would be impossible without decimating them. Decimating, meaning killing every person old enough to speak against me. Any place I took needed to welcome me with open arms.

Volantis was ripe for the taking. Four out of five people living in the 'Free' city were slaves. The Nobles were openly showed contempt to their subjects and best of all, I received a visit from the High Priest of Volantis Benerro.


	5. Chapter 5

I left Holy Pentos in the charge of Ezzo, with specific instructions on what to start building while I am away and what to do should another visitor come calling. Thorvin, Thorin, and their legions stayed behind with the Militia and most of the new legions to train with the new weapons they were being issued. Should the Dothraki come demanding bribes or another city decide to attack while I am away, I trusted them to know what to do.

I took 200 ships and set sail with 20,000 unblooded soldiers of god, loaded with supplies. No pirate would dare to attack that many ships, especially with the ballista mounted on the decks.

I wanted to own this world, intact and whole. I may not care about the lords of Westeros or care about who wins the game of thrones they are playing, but I had waited and planned for this moment for months.

The zombies these people call wights were on the island of Skagos, in the books. They had walked on the bottom of the god dammed sea. Maybe, it would take them a long time to reach Holy Pentos, months, maybe even years. They would come though, I was sure.

The best defense is a good offense.

The servants of the other are immune to arrows, they would have no effect. Immune to swords, axes and spears.

They had a weakness though. A subtle one, one commonly found on only two places in the world.

One was on the edge of the known world, many months away in the Shadow Lands of Asshia.

The other, right across the narrow sea, on the island of Dragonstone.

Dragonstone. The home of Stannis Baratheon, the only Lord on Westeros that followed the Red God. It would take years to starve out the fortress or many lives to crush the defenders. A diplomatic approach was needed.

All of my ships had red sails with the burning heart of R'hllor on them. This too, was Stannis's banner. True, I wanted Westeros for myself, but, I had no need to make my move anytime soon. Stannis, his legitimacy, and, his army would make useful tools.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
(Martyn's POV)

The Island looked like something from a dark-ass fantasy book, which, I suppose it is. From a distance, The gargoyles perched randomly across the fortress looked real. I had sent the rest of my fleet ahead to land and make camp north of the port town of Duskendale, and hold the camp until I returned. I needed to speak with Stannis before his fleet was destroyed in a folly.

A white flag blew in the breeze above my red sail. Stannis followed a strict adherence to his Kingdom's laws, of which, I had broken none, and came under the flag of peace. Pentos was outside of Westeros and thusly outside of the jurisdiction of the King. Slaughtering an entires city's noblility man, woman, and, child might get me into some trouble if it was in Westeros, but, it was not.

I sailed into the harbor of Dragonstone unhindered and waited on the sailors to make anchor to the docks.

Time to lie my ass off again. Thank God I was an accomplished liar.

The people working in the port were staring at me. I could understand, I was flying a sail with their Lord's banner on it and the ship's sailor were obviously foreign to them. Tan skinned, black haired and all wearing bright red. I was pale skinned and Blond haired surrounded with bodyguards and a few red priests.

The ports master agreed to allow me and ten bodyguards to disembark as long as I was escorted directly to the King. I took four priests and six legionaries with me into the fortress. We were escorted by dozens of knights in boiled leather armor with steel plates sewn inside. I was stopped before the doors to Stannis's throne room and asked my name and told to leave my guards here. I glanced to one of my red priests. He nodded, meaning, no faceless men's magic here.

"Announcing, Lord Martyn Lannister, of House Lannister and King of the Pentos."

I walked into the throne-room, receiving many glares as I did so. Lannisters were not well liked to put it lightly. I walked through the large room, filled with Stannis's bannermen up to the wooden chair that Stannis sat upon.

I did not kneel. He frowned. His face was lined with wrinkles from frowning often.

"Why are you here?" he asked. Blunt, I can deal with that.

"To offer my army and aid to the true King of the Seven Kingdoms." I answered with a smile

"Why would a Lannister support my claim over your cousin, Joffery?" he asked, frowning a little lees.

"Because it is the right thing to do." 'and because he had me beaten for hours and is a sadistic miserable little shit and you are sitting on a shit-ton of what I need' went unsaid.

"What do you mean by army?" he asked now leaning forward in his 'throne' staring into my eyes. His army is the smallest of the five kings at war, which is why he plans to strike at the capital directly.

"60,000 infantry with support and supplies." I answered with a grin now. Gasps sounded around me. Stannis dropped the goblet he had in his hand to to the floor and spilled his wine. His eyes were widened as he stared at me.

"What is it that you are after in return?" He asked knowing that no one would offer this for free. Too blunt.

"I heard you gave the Starks the chance to support your claim to the throne in the north and they supported your brother instead, Is this true?" I asked a question in turn.

"Yes" He answered, his face tightening slightly. Stress response. It must have actually hurt his feeling. Hmm, the cold man has feelings, who knew?

"I have foreseen a disturbing future for Westeros coming from the wall and sweeping through these lands with the backing of the children of the Nameless Horror. I wish to stop it, and thusly, I need the mining rights to the dragonglass on this island."

"That is all you want for sixty thousand men?" he asked in disbelief. Rightfully so. Dragonglass was not an expensive commodity and not worth a thousand men for all of it on the island to them, much less sixty.

"No, I want the Lordship of the North. I have no desire for the lands of my ancestors. After you take the Six Kingdoms back, as the last surviving Lannister, I will give up all claim to Lannisport, Castorly Rock the surrounding lands and the gold mines therein to House Baratheon. The North will remain independent of your rule." I answered.

I had just offered him the richest lands in the Seven Kingdoms for a cold, harsh land that he had little care over. I had also shown that I had no loyalties to my Lannister name and heritage.

"Agreed" he smiled now.

He doesn't know who got the better end of the deal. I wouldn't be without the West lands long.

"I have already landed twenty thousand north of Duskendale, twenty thousand more will come in a month, I will begin securing the lands around Blackwater Bay immediately"

I bowed and began to walk away. I turned back around half way. "Something else comes to mind" I said.

His face tightened again. He thinks I am going to ask for something else."Yes?" he asked.

"I heard that King's Landing has put the alchemists to work producing large quantities of wildfire. If you intend to sail into the harbor to assault the mud gate. Melisandre and other Priests of God can nullify such trickery. You would be remiss, not to bring her."

He nodded. I left.

He might live to regret his decision, I could always use law abiding citizens.


	6. Chapter 6

I arrived to the shore of Westeros in the port of the town of Duskendale. The town had around 6,000 inhabitants. They surrendered the docks without a fight. The noble in charge of the town was hiding in his keep in the middle of the city. I allowed all the villagers to flee to King's Landing. Wasting my time killing them would be worthless.

I considered ignoring the hiding noble's keep and just moving on to bigger targets. Leaving resistance in my wake would be a tactical mistake on my part if I did though. I left 2 hands totaling 500 men to finish setting up a counter-weight trebuchet and orders to bombard the keep with barrel sized molotov cocktails until they burned to ashes or surrendered. They had backed the wrong King and would not be executed or ransomed. The wall needed fodder.

The morning after, we burned the camp and moved on, leaving the hands to their jobs. We moved deeper into the Crownlands of Westeros. Stannis, the former master of ships for King Robert, had been blockading the city of King's landing for months. Which meant, they were getting their food over land, in the middle of a large war.

Stannis, probably thought I meant to take Duskendale, Rosby, and, Maiden pool. I did, but, there was another factor.

Mainly, the terrain here was far different from Essos. It was mostly hilly forests dotted with clearings for noble's keeps and farms. No walled cities other than Kings landing for many days in any direction. Lots and lots of woods.

A month in the woods, surrounded on all sides by . Out-numbered by gold cloaks cloaks in the the city. Without horsed knights to protect us or great long supply lines to feed us. Tyrells on the way from the south, soon. Lannisters from the west. Troops would be headed this way as fast as they can to defend King's landing from Stannis's army of Burning Heart bannered men, recently landed.

Too bad for them. These are not Stannis's men.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

All of the men on this spearheading expedition were equipped, differently than the legion that fought the Dothraki a few months before. The "Great Red Forges", Bessemer pots, had revolutionized the production of metal in Pentos, iron was common in the lands around Pentos, It took a long time to produce even a little steel the old way though. I still had yet to think of anything more effective than Bessemer pots for the production of steel.

Steel crossbow bolts were poured in the thousands, daily. Thin steel sheet, was added to the bow arms of refitted crossbows, adding strength unknown to any other bows in the known world. At sufficient range, it parted steel plate like butter. All men, Myself included wore a Pentoshi repeater across our backs.

The seax, a foot long, single edged blade. They were sheathed horizontally on the back the for close fighting, throwing, and, slitting throats.

Shields were left left behind. They would be a hindrance to the tactics needed here.

The tomahawk, a one handed ax. Spiked on one side, blade on the other. Worn on the belt, every man had one on each side. Thrown, they would break the arm of a man blocking with a shield, whether the head of the ax or the haft struck. Armor was no defense to the velocity and weight of a thrown ax.

The large amounts or cheap steel allowed for the pouring of many molds at once. Small thin scales of steel were laced together with silk thread. Laced together in overlapping rows, they were called lamellar armor in my past life, fire scales is what the men called them here. They covered, neck to waist leaving the arms bare. They were light and flexible, allowing for endurance and speed.

Boiled leather shin and knee guards. They went over leather sandals.

Spade for digging.

Waterskin for drinking.

Small backpack with spare ammunition and short term ration supply.

Their training included endurance running with sand filled bags carried on their backs, daily. Enabling them to use the apex predator, human ability, of great endurance. Running down game until it collapses in exhaustion was the way primitive humans hunted for tens of thousands of years. No other animal can run like a human. Even horses die chased down with human legs.

Moral was high. They were facing unbelievers, on foreign land, led by the son of God.

Uniformity has a power of it's own.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The local peasants still living in the area were snatched and given the ultimatum of some gold and safe leave to King's Landing or watching their children burn to death. No one chose to watch their children die. I learned the small details of the land that maps don't cover.

Where the wells were. Where small creeks ran. Local caves and forest trails, where they lead. Artists drew large and detailed maps that I handed out Captains and Lieutenants on the second day.

People were flying down the King's road, trying to reach the safety of the walled city. I did not try to stop them, harvest would not come for another 2 months and fields of half grown food would not be any good to anyone at this time. Destroying the fields would be a worthless endeavor as well.

All septs of the seven, native religion of this region of Westeros were burned down. All the small villages and towns in the area were sent down the King's road, mostly unharmed. A few stubborn bastards made my men kill them to make them leave the area. It took a week, the chain of command worked wonders for delegating work to the right people.

King's Landing was flooded with the people of the Crownlands, hiding from the red armored devils. They told of where I was, what my numbers were. That we camped in the open, in a large clearing, right next to the King's road. A place easily reached by Tywin's and the Tyrell's army, that out-numbered my own. That I had no calvary to meet their own, large calvary forces with.

A large open plain, perfect for a charge from 'chivalrous' knights, looking for honor and glory.

I confiscated any wagon carrying food from the west or north, but let the people go down the Kings road, alive and hungry.

The city already over-run with the starving from Stannis's blockade of trade ships coming to and from Blackwater Bay. What the man lacked in men, he made up for in ships. Fifty warships had blocked the Bay for months.

I now blocked 50% of the food they were using to keep from starving. I later heard high-born Ladies were selling their jewels to buy a few fish. I don't know if its true or not, but, from the screams of riots scouts heard in the city, I suspect it is.

They had no choice but to beg Tywin to run to their aid. Tywin, who was allying with the Tyrells. Telling them, where I was, how many, and how I had nothing to face their knights with.

'Uncle' Tywin must have forgotten the time he spent with me.

Chivalrous fools.


	7. Chapter 7

Tywin had learned the lesson to always have outriders on all sides of army from the defeats he suffered from Robb. He kept at least a few horsed men on all sides of his column, armored men. Only two days march from the city.

Noisy men. Clinking and clanking their armored selfs through the forest.

Slow men. A horse can only gallop for a short period of time before it has to stop. Can't gallop at all in the dense forest.

Dead men. Filled with bolts before they could let out a scream.

I picked the thinest, longest legged boys to go into my scout corps. They could run 50 miles in a day, through forest trails with 3 days provisions on their backs. No supply lines that needed protecting. They had scouted the entire area for many miles ahead. Stories of red devils coming out of the forest and taking all the food was common on many a peasant's mouth. People were still flooding into King's Landing from the countryside. The only safe-haven open to them.

If only they knew how 'safe' it was. Many screams were constantly heard from the city. Day and night. Some people were running away from the city, running into the Kingswood, looking for food. They were never heard from again.

Stannis had changed his battle plan for taking the country. With 60,000 allied troops, he could take the country with ease. He was going to wait another two weeks, until my next round of reinforcements arrived and he outnumbered the Lannister forces by a good margin.

Five thousand horsemen, I don't know how many were 'knights'. Eighteen thousand infantry or archers. A supply line full of provisions and food for the city from Highgarden. A long line of pretty wheelhouses and wagons guarded by few thousand fancily armored men. Steel plate lined with gold. Horses covered in all colors.

He knew where we were and felt safe in his great crowd of men.

He rode on ahead of his column when they were a good days ride away from the city. He had to stop the rioting in the city with armed men. He believed himself, out of range to be attacked, his supplies secure with his army. I didn't stop him, or the 2500 'knights' with him.

Why would I? The most important thing he had in his army was trotting away to the rescue of his children.

His own command was a hindrance to my plans.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A little something on the geography of this section of the Kingsroad. It was built through forest that stretched for days.. A hundred meters to each side of the road was logged for building timber and firewood. It doubled to give marching armies enough clear space to camp overnight.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I rose from my hammock at dawn. I needed the the movements for the day to go unnoticed and taking my full army through the forest would be a logistical nightmare.

Guarding the Kingsroad was priority, and it took a full legion and a half to maintain the security across the long road, intimidating locals and keeping local Lords locked down in their keeps. This would be a killing blow to the.

Two thousand men moved into the forest. Trails had been marked and scouts led the various fingers to the designated positions. They were waiting for the signal. Three thousand moved to where they had set up the preparations the night before.

The Tyrells had parties every night. Little tournaments to show off their knightly prowess with the lance or sword. With women and feasting, drinking and whoring. You would not think they were riding towards a battle to kill men. They were festive and happy. Looking forward to the 'honor' of killing my men on a 'glorious' field of battle.

They were predictable.

I knew their next intended stop, the last one before they reached King's Landing.

In the shadows, well out of sight and sound, we waited.

No talking or fires. Many of the men took this time to pray silently. Some played poker(a very popular pastime).

First came hundreds of Tyrell knights. Clanking and clopping, looking so pretty in their fancy armor. 'Keeping order and clearing the way'.

Then, thousands men, singing bawdy songs and laughing and talking. Lannister and Tyrell mixed freely. No real order or formation to the men marching to their deaths. Well fed and watered. Armored and well trained with the swords and spears and bows they held or had sheathed. Lords did not macrch with their men. They were in the front with their knights.

Miles behind the the the warriors came the camp followers, whores and Septons, Maesters and medics, wifes and children of the marching army. Highborn Ladies and Lords in great wheelhouses. Safely protected from the vulgar camp followers by hundreds of pretty knights. Miles of wagons, filled to the brim with grain and ale. Ten thousand heads of cattle followed last. Prodded along by hundreds of herders.

I laughed so hard I had tears falling from my eyes when I found that out.

Thousands of cattle. Marched for weeks now. Tired and irritated. In a narrow corridor.

Tywin really had forgotten who he was dealing with. He might as well have killed all his men himself.

- - - - - - - - -

One hundred men emerged from the forest behind the last of the cattle, screaming and yelling. Waving their arms and banging sticks together. They must have looked ridicules.

The cattle panicked. Running into the ones in front set off the stampede instinct strongly. I kept my men the hell away.

We waited until the stampede had passed the the wagons and were heading into the panicking soldiers to move in. There was little resistance given from the crushed camp followers. The flattened skull of a some soldier's child did not give me pause. Some of my men looked sick, they followed the son of God though, and followed orders.

March behind the stampede and kill any survivors.

3000 men were in the woods, waiting on the soldiers to scrambling into the Kingswood in panic. Those that did not run into Kings Landing that is.

Skins of distilled wine were splashed onto the supply wagons and set alight by the 2000 men with me. They burned like the wood they were made of.

One week until reinforcement arrives.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time I returned to camp I had received word that King's landing was burning. Reinforcements to the forest had already left. They would strike any fleeing the burning city.

My job here was done now. Tyrells and Lannisters, were the only ones who really stood a chance against the Baratheon forces of the Storm Lands. I had just killed half and the others would be mopped up soon.

Starving soldiers don't listen to Lords.

Starving soldiers without capable leaders made mistakes.

Mistakes I had trained my men to exploit. They needed command experience and this was a good opportunity for them.

Stannis didn't need me anymore, or my army. The agreement was, he got the army on his side, until he won the war. I just won the war for him in less then a month.

I lied back in my hammock and to get caught up on some sleep.

All I had to do now, was wait for my ships to arrive from Holy Pentos and make parley with 'King' Robb.

He would stay 'King in the North', under an oath of fealty to Pentos, I got exclusive trade rights with White Harbor(the only real port in the north), He could turn his attention to the Iron-born, and, reinforce the Wall a little with his Lannister prisoners. I didn't have time to go conquering the freezing fucking north any time soon.

Essos had the higher population and the better resources. I had what I wanted from this continent on Dragonstone.

I hoped he was smart enough to see reason. If not, oh well. Can't say I didn't give him the chance.

The force of reputation has a power of it's own and I had a fierce one now.

- - - - - - - - - -

I was at home in my palace two months later. Robb was not so stupid as to argue with my offer.

My neighbors were starting to get worried about my state policies and large standing army.

Rightfully so.

Daenerys had decimated the warrior slave slave trade in Astapor.

It was of great benefit to myself.

The Triarchs, elected rulers of Volantis, are shitting themselves in anger. What the cities of Slavers Bay sold, went to Volantis first before going to any of the other "free cities". It was the powerhouse of the of the 'Slave-owning Hypocrite' Cites. The city of Volantis depended on the slave trade. Five people in Volantis were slaves to every one free. They had heard of the fate of Astapor recently and would get word from Yunkai in a couple months of a similar fate.

They were considering marching a slave army at her.

My actions had made the world unpredictable, now though. I knew they sent a fleet of ships during the book A Dance with Dragons. My city cast a large shadow now.

I doubt they would leave the city so weakened when I was a threat.

Instead of hoarded, I always put my earned gold to use. Where before, Nobles would have great houses full of expensive silk carpets from the jade sea and chests of rubies or wear rings with diamonds and sapphires the size of my balls. I owned these fine things. I traded in silk and spices, rubies and emeralds. I simply spent them on the people.

Public hospitals and bathhouses. Police buildings for the militia. Schools for children ages 8-12(easily manipulated by propaganda and peer pressure at those ages). New temples to the Lord of Light. Large 3 story apartment buildings and mansions converted to the same purpose, where everyone paid rent to me. Very large factories and sweatshops where I produced the goods I needed to sell to the people. Furniture, cheese, cloth and clothes. Dyes and paint.

Crossbows were sold at very high prices to traders. The designs would get out to spies whether I wanted them to or not. I might as well made gold off of it while I can for a few years until the demand goes down for them. I had the only source for cheap steel in the world though, and the secret of the oxidation removing qualities of the Bessemer pots were guarded by the red priests.

I sold steel swords and spear points by the ship load. Volantis was the main buyer.

It really didn't matter to me who used them, contrary to popular belief, my weapons were not the backbone of the city.

It was the people.

They had the best quality of life of any peasants in the world.

The casinos and brothels, restaurants and stores owned by me were well within even the poorest workers pay to enjoy. Nowhere else in the world were men free and paid like here. There were no beggars in the streets. No nobles living in walled homes that looked like forts. A coliseum was being built to the delight of the workers.

Anyone who decided to take the lazy way out of work to thieve like they had in the past were snatched in the middle of the night by the militia or red priests along with their friends and families and either burned alive or sent to the wall.

They all had jobs. The fires of industry bloomed.

That was my base of power.

Propaganda, wealth, and, entertainment were tools to maintain power.

It did not matter who discovered how the make repeating crossbows first. They hadn't the industry to build them as cheaply or as fast as I could.

Much less, could they compete with my new weapon of war.

The tricycle.


	9. Chapter 9

I had learned things, living here on Essos, that I never would have considered relevant in my life before.

Valyria. The Valyrian Dragonroad that connected from Holy Pentos, 2500 miles to Meereen. Almost a years march if walked. Four hundred years after the Doom of Valyria, no erosion at all. I had examined it myself. I hit it with a hammer. No chips. I had the biggest man in Pentos hit it with the largest hammer he could lift. No effect at all to the road, hammer haft broke though.

This was not something I knew how to fight against. Good thing they are dead. Good thing they left such an amazing thing behind.

As the ruler of Holy Pentos I had access to books that no one had read bothered to read for hundreds of years. The one that worried me were in the manse of former living nobles. I had ordered all books from the noble houses to come to me. I had taken months sorting through them in my spare time. most were discarded as useless. Poetry is what most of it was. 'Sunset of Bravos' and 'Singing to the Moon' were examples of a wasted use of expensive parchment.

I hated poetry.

So, I put off most of the sorting, not trusting anyone else to do the sorting for me encase they decided to take a book like the one I had found. 'The Last Child of the Great Lords' was written by an old valyrian scribe-slave who served a Dragon Lord of Valyria, roughly 380 years previous. Around 20 years after the Freehold of Valyria vanished behind clouds of smoke and flames. It described something I found interesting.

It started out with the history of Valyria, identical to what I had read in a dozen different Maester's tomes. It went on to the old slave's, Opar's family. How they thought he was going senile and his rants on how sharp his mind still he still remembered his birth, I had never heard of anyone in the 7,000,000,000 people in my world claim that. How he never forgot anything in his long life of seventy five years, nutty old man. How beautiful his mistress was and how large the bosoms she possessed. How pale and smooth her skin and how long her shining white hair was.

Finally, some ancient porn, I hoped. I missed Internet porn with a passion of a thousand suns.

I found the history part of it boring, then as it got into his rants, amusing and entertaining.

So, instead of discarding it, I kept reading.

He wanted to tell the story of his his life. This book contained his deathbed memoir, written in High Valyrian.

Ancient porn, it was not. I almost discarded it then and there. It was a first hand account of the inner workings of a Valyrian noble though. I will give you the overview. Opar was a slave to one of the forty 'Dragon Lord' families, the Forvasian family. The Forvasians were the bigger, more powerful and wicked older brother of the Targareyens.

The Targareyens were a minor noble Valyrian house and might be comparable to a fly and a tiger in comparison with the Forvasions.

He described the magic he saw worked as a child growing up in a breeding house for slaves. Rock shapers making homes for slaves, rise from the ground whole and complete. Metal-smiths using dragons to heat metal for singing into tools. Lords that were immune to the heat of fire and would ride their dragons to the mouths of volcanoes to bathe in the lava to cleanse their skin of unfashionable hair and grime.

I was hooked.

Great long tubes carried water all over the city-state Island of Valyria. Carts that hummed sounds that floated them through the air. Slave master's tools that when pointed at you could cause you to feel like you were on fire or make you lose all feeling and control of your limbs. Healers that could cure any ill in seconds by waving their hands over you and reciting a few words.

Every ill but one.

Ice sickness he called it.

I can only guess what it really was. A smudged page that I could make out only a few words of. Ice dragon. Spreading. Grain. Blue.

The symptoms of ice sickness I could guess, went like this. Cold, blue, and, shriveled skin. Icy cold breath. Psychotic behavior. Control of the dead.

Opar had been with his mistress since her birth, it went on to her families history as one of the forty. When her skin started to turn blue, he ran like the wind.

Onto her pleasure boat with other running slaves and into the sea, sailing anywhere. Looking to find someone with the power save them form her wrath at their cowardly betrayal.

Then he saw the Doom of Valyria, from the sea after five days sailing away. It is the only first hand account of the Doom I had ever seen.

A light so bright it blinded a few of the escaped slaves looking in the direction of Valyria. Followed by a sound so loud and booming that it deafened them for some time. A great cloud was visible on the horizon, shaped like a bowl, they spread over days. With the clouds, red lightning and thunder came upon them. The fish in the sea floated dead to the surface. Whales, sharks, and, all.

They sailed as fast as they could to a far outpost of Valyria and away from the smoking sea. They passed Valantis and sailed passed Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr without stopping, the clouds followed with them.

He never saw another Valyrian Dragon Lord again.

I was with in the school one week after returning from Westeros, visiting one of the 10 year old girls classes on using spinning wheels and listening to them sing songs of worship to R'hllor. Songs of the wonders of how working for the goals of god brought happiness ever-after. Songs of honor to the heroes of the legions. Songs of thanks to the savior of the world.

I never taught reading and writing in schools. Schools were for teaching important things.

Ingraining my message into the heads of thousands of children.

I had an Idea, watching the girls sing and spin. Something I had though about, even in my past life. Watching them spin, I focused on the wheel. How the little bars at their feet went up and down, up and down. Bringing the human power of the feet to a little rod connected to their spinning wheels, providing power to spin the wheel.

Human power.

Not steam. Not the combustion of fuel inside cylinders.

A simple to for girls and women to make yarn, gave me the idea for how to exploit human power.

A hundred skilled artisans were put to work the next day, building prototypes.

Four months after my return from Westeros, it was effective. A three wheeled wagon, the size of a full size van. Steel rods made up the frame. Two thick steel wheels in the front were steered by one man. It was steered the same way as a child's toy wagon from where I was from. Simple brute force on a bar allowed it to turn, right and left.

A steel bar across the front, little sharp points sticking out of it. Wood, covered the frame to the sides. A canvas roof to protect from rain and bird droppings.

Without rubber, I could not make tires that gripped the land. I could though, put a lot of traction on it from simply having it take more weight. Thusly, Three wheels instead of one.

My exasperating experiences of repairing my bike as a kid, had given me in-depth knowledge on how gears worked. The free-wheel mechanism and the different ways to transfer mechanical energy are over looked by most people in my world, but, I had a passion for how transmissions worked in my teenage years. Clutch pads to pulleys, I wanted to understand the principles behind them.

Three men sat abreast, behind the steerer and pulled a bar with their arms similar to oarsmen rowing. Backwards and forwards. The mechanical energy was transferred to a very thick chain, connected to a primitive freewheel gear that provided torsion to the wheel.

Breaking was to stop rowing and apply wet wooden blocks to the side of the front wheels. It was slow starting, and slower braking. What it lost in acceleration, was made up for in momentum and inertia. Leaf springs were added after I gave one a ride and had my ass bruised to hell.

I don't know what the fastest it can go is, It would be impossible to to tell without accurate timing tools.

A watchmaker, I was not.

What I knew it could do, is pull a lot of weight, and move a little faster then a galloping horse over relatively flat land. On the Dragonroad however, It could move fast enough to kill anyone who goes off the road and hit a rock in a very deadly crash.

The Steel-dragon(My name for it) crew's family were given two years pay.

Now, with 50 of them, It was time to put them to use.


	10. Chapter 10

Twenty five Steel dragons(SD) went south, over land rather than road. They pulled long trailers behind them, loaded with merchant goods. Cheap(for me) swords, lead cups that my people were forbidden to drink from, crossbows, peppers and spices and other thing were heading south to Myr and come back with glass and was a test trip to tell how a caravan of SDs travels. I should see them back in a few days.

Ten SDs were sent to Norvos with the same. To return with iron, mined with slaves in the hills of Norvos.

There were no merchant princes or nobles in my city, eating up all the trade profit, and it showed. Everyone was clothed and fed. No starving orphans littered the streets. No thieves waited to mug you in the dark. It was safe enough for children to walk to school everyday while their parents worked.

Work was plentiful.

Songs swept over the whole city every night. People celebrating the freedom and happiness given by the son of God were never happier. The stadium was done and busy. Many came to see and bet on the horse races and other forms of entertainment. Bare fisted cage fighting was my favorite.

Something you should know about gambling.

The house always wins.

Apartments were built by the dozen. A few building were done each day. Slums were torn down and replaced with apartment building. Rent flowed in. Everyone had money to spend from the work they did.

Work was plentiful.

Casinos and brothels were making money, hand over fist. I made sure the whores got paid their third. The price of wine dropped as the amount of stills around the city rose, making 'holy water' a lot more popular.

Fuck using unstable wildfire as a weapon.

I have whiskey!

A pump forced air into a air-tight tank, pressurizing it. A little soap, added to oil, holy water, and, sugar, make a very sticky, highly flammable fluid that is in the pressurized tank. Forced down a steel pipe, and out a nozzle, it is lit by a small brazier under the nozzle. Allowing the pressure to be released in short bursts by a valve, it was very, very effective. Fires from it burned in the rain.

Work was plentiful.

I had them mounted onto all steel framed SD , not as effective as real dragons, but, good enough.

Crews were trained day and night in the first twenty five combat tricycles. A few additions were needed for the next rounds. Stiffer leaf springs, thin copper roof, all steel frame, better mountings on wheels for scythes, steel covers for exposed chains. The SD had slits on all sides for cooling and vision. cloth covered most of the vents on the sides. When wet, with a breeze from moving, the cloth made it quite cool in the cramped space of the SD.

It would be slower, but, it was resilient. Production was speeding now that the prototypes were being perfected. The artisans of Holy Pentos are used to working hard in groups on projects now.

The legions were in constant training and ranging. I was at 10 legions. 100,000 men and boys, Growing more fanatical and better disciplined every day. they could finally do more than march in step and fire on command. Do not rape and do not steal was engraved into everyone's brain.

100 ships and half a legion was sent to East-Watch-By-The-Sea. 10,000 workers went with them. They were going to begin repairing the defenses on the Wall. The ships were going to head to Hardhome with orders from me to begin ferrying the wildlings to Dragonstone where they would be disseminated into the people of the north. Promises of food and warmth, life away from the approaching hoard of undead for the simple value of working for me.

They followed strong men, and I cast a large shadow over the western world.

No one in Westeros would challenge me in allowing the wildlings into Westeros. I was far more feared than a few thousand savages.

My trade and steel plows helped to keep more men off the farms and into the legion. I had some workers clearing, plowing, and planting very large fields near the Little Rhoyne river. The SDs would speed the process.

Wide gravel roads are being built southward, toward Myr and northward up the Rhoyne. They may not be straight, paved, roman roads like I could build. They were cheap and fast though.

Ezzo was teaching me the secret prayers of the red priests on some of the nights I was not too busy. The prayers had amazing powers.

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(Gendry Water's POV)

'What are we doing here?' I wondered to my self.

The sea smelled of fish. Perhaps fish smelled of the sea?

The giants and wildling interpreter stunk up the whole ship. Holding my head over the port side to breath in the fresh sea air was the only relief from the stink of bodies that had never known a bath tub. Speaking in a guttural harsh tongue, demanding beer and salted pork loudly.

The giants were equally ugly and wildling was not much better.

Wrinkled scrunched faces in the middle of shrunken heads on-top of massive pear shaped bodies. Covered in fur and sweating in the autumn cool air. the narrow sea must be too warm for them. No giant had set foot beyond the wall in recorded memory.

They were fleeing with the wildlings from something. Willing to put their massive bodies into little ships and sail a thousand miles to get away from whatever it was that they were running from.

What the Red Son wanted with them, I will probably never know.

What I do know is that there is work for an honest man in Pentos. Recruiters in red cloaks had been running from one end of Westeros to the other. Telling everyone they passed of the wonders of Holy Pentos.

Offering cheap rood and board. Brothels and gambling houses the size of palaces. Where everyone had gold in their hands. The air was clean, and smelled of good food at all times. A giant arena where women wrestled naked in mud and men fought bar-handed for entertainment. Apprenticeships were free and plentiful. Brothels and gambling houses the size of palaces. Where wine and song flowed through the streets every night and morning. No nobles to steal your food, wife, and, gold. Brothels and gambling houses the size of palaces, open to everyone.

All you had to do was get on a ship to Holy Pentos, and renounce the false faith of the seven.

What had the seven ever done for me anyway?

Make me a bastard? Make me an orphan? have my head hunted from one end of Westeros to the other?

I would have happily renounced them without the giant pleasure palaces.

They were the lemon on the cake though.

I wonder why the giants are going to Holy Pentos too?

111 111 111 111 111 111 111  
(Hun Tag Dur Weg's POV)

"More beer!" I boomed at the little fragile creatures face, as he shook in fear.

It was too funny to scare him. I only know a few words of the common speech, One to summon ale, one to greet "Fuck ya!" ,and, one for food "Grub!"

For some reason the humies feel the need to be shouted at to understand us. My mate/sister and our spawn may be the last of my kin that I ever see. There are few of us left now.

Our homes, deep in the snowlands, far out of reach to the humies, had been destroyed generations ago by the expansion of the Blue Ones. They wanted to expand more into the humey lands now. We the Mighty Ones do not have the strength to fight the Squirrel People anymore.

Much less, the Blue Ones.

We must all flee or die. If we keep running, we may be far enough away from them that there hunger for life will be extinguished by the time they reach us. I doubt it though. I don't think we can run fast enough.

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	11. Chapter 11

It took three months to finish the gravel road to the Little Rhoyne River. The steel dragons could far out-pace a horse on it. In those three months, I had continued production of the upgraded steel tricycles. I had a fleet of two hundred made of them in that time. While Westeros was in a very weakened state, right now. Essos is a very large continent.

A very dangerous continent.

Like with leprosy, greyscale is a very obvious to detect disease. The sufferers of it are sentenced to slowly have their skin turned grey and stiff. They are forced to live in the ruined Valyrian city now known as the Sorrows. The city is on the Rhoyne River, halfway from Holy Pentos to Volantis.

If they behaved like civilized people, I would not have to take such drastic actions against them. I would build a small village for them and give them all the food and wine they could eat or drink. I was sympathetic to them. Slightly.

Sick people that are looked at inhumanely by everyone around them, become inhumane.

Not enough for me to let them get away with their actions against me though.

My new riverboat, with a paddle-wheel washed ashore, near Selhorys. The Selhorys River, runs into the Rhoyne river, around fifty miles south of the Sorrows. Many puddles of blood were found on the deck. No real bodies were left. Only bones that were gnawed to the marrow. Gnawed with human teeth.

Killing a man for food is a normal practice in this world and the one I came from. Starving people raiding stores to kill shop-clerks. Riots in Ireland during the potato famine. Many other ways too.

Killing a man to eat the man was highly frowned upon in my homeland of America. It is still practiced in the fucked-up primitive parts of my world though. Africans eating each other for 'Mana' and luck. South-Americans in backwards-ass back-woods ass rituals eating their fathers in a drunken orgy.

I could not abide by this so close to me. Nor the fucking up of my river trade routes.

They would shit the gold they just lost me.

I fucking promise.

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(The Spider's POV)

I have had worries about Pentos since my dearest friend, Magister Illiryio had fallen silent around the last harvest. My ravens had not returned. His ravens did not reach me.

Two weeks later, I heard from some whores at the docks of a red priest, seizing control of the city and burning the merchant princes and their families alive.

We were so busy, with the murder of Jon Arryn and the intrigues of Lord Stark that we missed the real threat. A threat that King Stannis cannot see. I would have told him about them when he finally came to King's Landing, had it not been for his practices. Burning people alive and cutting the finger-tips off of people who save his life are not the reasons.

It is his witch. His use of foul and evil magic. His sacrificing people to his fire-god.

I will not be bringing to his attention the threat. When the Real Queen's dragons are grown, the threat will be incinerated, just like the other warlocks.

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(Small Council chamber of the Red Keep, Third Person POV)

"Your Grace" The Lords of the small council bowed. Frowns on all of their faces.

Silk and lace under-clothes with fine, gold trimmed armor. Rings of black yellow and blue diamonds, purple star-stones, rubies the size of thumb-tips, sapphires and emeralds. They had little to frown about.

"Sit" commanded the king. His face hard, his head bald, and, his eyes small and beady.

"Why did you send for me?"

"I gave you all specific duties and directives that were simple and did not need the King's input to make a decision." He snarled at the lords.

"We are worried, Your Grace" Said the Master of Coin.

"About?" Asked the King, left eyebrow twitching.

"The small folk are becoming discontent your grace." Said the new Master of Whispers, the old having disappeared ten months before.

"When are they not discontent? I have never known the small folk to be content with anything, always wanting more and more. They will always find something to be discontent about. It is the nature of the peasants to want more. Handle it as we always have. Kill the ring-leaders and send the others to to the wall."

"Yes, Your Grace" Said the Hand of the King, The onion knight.

The lords were still frowning.

"What else? My time is important."

"We are worried about your ally, the Red Son of Pentos. His army could crush us at his will. We need to build defenses against him and train soldiers to fight his zealots should he attack. We are almost defenseless against him if he should betray us."

The King kept silent for a few moments thinking hard.

"Begin training some small folk in the sword and Pentoshi crossbow. We need to build an army to match the one in Pentos. Find a way to copy the Pentoshi cross-bow to lessen the cost of buying them as we have been.

I'll take a new loan out from Bravos if need be."

"Yes, Your Grace."

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The last few months, cooped up in Holy Pentos has made me bored. It may be my 15 year old hormones affecting the mind of a twenty-five year old man, but, hormones are powerful things. I had no trouble avoiding the whores who had never seen penicillin and the sad pathetic uneducated fan-girls who lusted for the son of God. I lusted for something different.

In a way only a fifteen year old can, I lusted for an adventure. A princess and a quest fit for an Emperor. Damn hormones. I can't stop thinking about the pretty white hair, pale smooth skin, and, perky tits of Emilia Clarke's character. A good start for the Red Son's harem would be the Mother of Dragons. I couldn't greet her empty-handed though.

"Hi miss dragon-lord, I want to fuck you and keep you in a gilded cage with your dragons for my amusement!" Would probably not go over so well.

111 1111 111111 111111 1111111 111111111 1111111111 11111111111 111111111111

I sent twenty Steel dragons with trailers loaded with troops and barrels of Holy-water(white lightning), down the flatlands with orders to burn the jungle for a days ride around the Sorrows.

Leave no tree standing and stay down-wind of the smoke. keep wet cloth tied around your face and keep the steel dragons out of the jungle. Start the fire, a day separate, north and south and meet in the middle. Run down any Stone-men trying to escape the fire. Do not touch any of the bodies of stone-men, build a pyre around where they lay and set it alight without getting the evil tainted blood on yourself. Any steel dragon with the tainted blood must be doused with holy water and left in the baking sun with no cover for 7 days.

I hoped that could kill any contagion. All troops were then to return and be isolated for 3 months to insure they were not infected with the evil of greyscale.

If Gen. Thorvin can carry out something this simple himself, he will be rewarded with a year of free brothel visits. That got him hyped for the firebug operation to no end. I have no wish to smell the horrid stench of a jungle aflame. Hopefully the fire wont spread too far.

Did they expect me to send them into the jungle to fight the stone-men?

Hell yes!

Did my orders make them happy?

Hell yes!

Hope they have a good tale when they return. I should be back before they are out of quarantine. They will not be close enough to talk to anyone for the next 3 and a half months to anyone, but themselves and the whores who I allow to make a living out of every Steel dragon.

Yes, Steel dragons do have an assigned whore.

No need for wives.

The marriage rates plummeted in Holy Pentos, but, the Red temples gets flooded with greatly needed new blood to expand from all the unwanted bastard babies of my people. Good for everyone. Whores can work a few weeks after child-birth, I get new-born followers to mold.

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	12. Chapter 12

(Red Son's POV)

A few hours from Meereen.

I looked at Hammun as he held up different outfits for me to wear effeminate man was my 'personal assistant', as I dubbed him. A bodyguard, organizer, schedule keeper, and, accomplished tailor. He was with me almost everywhere I went. He was also, flamboyantly gay. If he was from my world, in my country, I have no doubt that he would be a she by now.

Quicker than lightning, with knifes. His hobby of twirling the sharp little things like a western gunslinger was scary. I had freed him from some especially viscous slave owners. Bestiality being the least of it.

Medieval people were not known for their acceptance of other lifestyles. My own morality finds such a thing the same as not liking someone, because of skin color. As a mix of over six distinct ethnicities, I always had the feeling that I was a little bit of everything.

"Wo wat wone" I garbled through the small the twigs rubbing crushed charcoal, chalk, and, salt were rubbed onto my teeth.

A red suit, and tie. As sleek a suit, as 2,250,000 people can afford their Boss.

Annet, and Anney were twins. White haired, purple eyed twins. Both born in the slave training houses of Lys. Built like the products of thousands of years worth of selective breeding for wonderful curves and pretty faces. Both saved by me.

They worshiped me a little differently then everyone else.

There are benefits to being an Emperor.

I cant wait to see the dragons. I wonder how they work?

- - - - - - - - - - -  
(New Hotness Stormborn's POV)

Great Pyramid of Meereen

"Sir Barristan, when will I have knights to cross the sea? You said you were going to train them."

"Not for a year at least, Khaleesi"He answered

"Was that the last of them for today?" She asked droningly.

'My hind end cannot take much more of this traditional Meereen bench. The Traditional crown of the Meereen royalty is too heavy on my head.' she thought.

The seven hours had tired her mind. Hours of her people coming to her to settle grievances and bring forward petitions had drained her energy.

"No Khaleesi, One more."

"Bring him in then.

She was seated on the platform on top of the Pyramid. Her dragons curled up near her on pillows, dozing lightly. Their were the size of Summer Island ponies. Unsullied around the edges of the platform.

What strange clothes those were.

Red.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Varo Salina's POV)

Qarth is a monstrosity. They prey upon the people that flee from the Dothraki through the Red Wastes. They buy slaves in the thousands. Hire pirates and sell-swords to pillage small settlements and enforce their trade monopoly on spices from the Jade Sea. They rape children and call it legal slavery in their laws. They harbor the warlock death-cult of the great other, stealing power from the mighty Red God of life and light.

They had to be punished.

They got their water through great aqueducts, bringing water overland through the Red Wastes from the mountains and hills of Lhazar. They protected them with thousands of Unsullied. The Dothraki would not fight Unsullied anymore, after getting beaten by the spear-men time and again over the last few hundred years.

But I would.

The Red Son had given me a reason to live. Made me a General. Gave me a command that I love.

Time to put his teachings to use.

1

(Martyn Lannister's POV)

"Hello Khaleesi" I greeted the future mega babe. Fourteen was just too young for me to consider attractive, even if this body is only fourteen. I have better looking versions of her already.

"The fabled Red Son I assume? What do you want?" she asked in a cold voice. Her face was blank. A wary reaction.

A reaction of a traumatized child, trying to be tough.

Raised by a brutal and stupid brother. Running from place to place. Trading royal jewels for a loaf of bread at times. Raped by her warlord husband at the age of 12, not that she saw it that way. Stockholm syndrome was unknown here.

One disaster to another, her whole life. PTSD is the least of her problems.

Very unattractive mentally.

Physically perfect though.

With the blood of the Dragon-Lords running through her veins. Strong juju. Strong enough to spare her life despite her mental instability.

What woman was really sane anyway?

Time to do my thing.

1

(Mother of Dragons' POV)

"I came to help you. You want the Iron Throne, while I, do not have any interest in conquering your homeland. Being that it usually takes a year for news from Westeros to get here, and even then it is usually unreliable, you probably don't know this yet. I control Westeros. If you want it, I am the key." He said.

Scowling was mild compared to what I could do to him.. He wears no crown. He is the ruler of a city of cheese-mongers.

How Dare He!.

I breath deep.

"And just how do you control Westeros, Lannister?"I asked. I consider having Ser Barristen arrest him.

"The only real way to do so, Khaleesi. Shock, awe, fear, respect, love, and, hatred to varying degrees. Manipulating their economy through trade and food supply helps too. I could collapse the power of the nobles all over the country in a couple weeks." he said with a irritating smile.

"I am supposed to believe you? You might as well claim to have all the gold in the world and twenty dragons. You are a delusional person. I was considering having a Lannister in my dungeons for my own peace of mind, but I don't imprison the simple minded. Get out of my city." I told the boy condescendingly.

His smile was still in place as he bowed and walked away.

Arrogant fool. Did he think I would fall for that?


	13. Chapter 13

AN/ I am heading to Job Corps in a few days. I won't be able to bring my lap-top with me for the risk of it getting stolen. I don't know if this website is going to be blocked there or not, but if it is, it will be a month at least before I will be allowed off campus to get on a non-blocked computer.

A short teaser chapter for you guys. XD

(Holy Emperor's POV)

I never travel alone.

Weeks ago, SDs had dropped off dozens of spies a days travel away from Meereen. Their mission was to find where the rich lived and making maps of the city.

Why have scouts and spies trained if you aren't going to use them?

Why have 100,000 soldiers trained in guerrilla warfare if you aren't going to use them.

My plan was never to convince Deanerys to my side, just to fight off boredom for a couple days until the legions arrived behind me.

Only one legion per city. Volantis. Meereen. Yunkai. Old Ghis. Lys. Myr. Norvos. Qarth. Tyrosh. Astapor.

All would be hit within days of each-other.

Their strength lied with their ability to call on each-other for aid. To have time to hire sell-swords. To call in their 'banner-men' from who knows where. They waged war in a very ritualistic and ingrained way.

When they had been to war, armies laid siege to their walls and used massed charges to and primitive rams to get through gates after weeks of siege. Keeping their armies in one massive group. Too scared to break up their chain of command and risk their warriors gaining trust in another warlord.

A fortress to these people is not the type of fortress as people in the modern age know a fortress. A wooden gate in the middle of straight and flat rock walls. A walkway on top of the walls.

Simple and retired more than two thousand years ago in my world in any civilized society. There were too many holes to make an overlapping field of fire for archers. The shape of the walls would not give enough resistance to catapult shots. it was too easy to dig under them.

The cities were doomed the second they shut their gate and locked themselves in where I wanted them.

Only time will tell how successful the first round of the Blitzkrieg is.

Generals were given all the mental guidance I could give them. If they couldn't cut it, someone else would.

I wanted to take Meereen, myself.

The four beings in this city, possessing dragons blood were too important to the continued use of the resurrection spell to be allowed to die out.

Even if force was necessary.  
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(Terrin's POV)

I have spent the last year working for the Son of God. At first, I thought he was kind of crazy. A large flat wheel turned around in some kind of weird metal frame with sticking stone inside. Many thin copper spun wires connected to clay jars filled with metal disks and lime juice.

He called it a homopolar generator.

Said it was a tool of God to turn saltwater into death and salvation in equal parts.

Half the liquid went into large clay barrels and the other half was dried into powder for cleaning drinking water.

A years product of around the clock barreling was loaded into the SDs returning after dropping off the Legions. Shipped to every corner of Essos. I had seen the effects.

The Red Son was vengeful to the degenerate slavers and rapists.

I had seen what the liquid could do.

The effects had even hit me for a second a few months ago.

The slavers were in for the Red God's wrath.

(The little lion's POV)

"This is from the jade sea isn't it?" I asked the sea lord. The golden wine was sweet and tart. One of the best vintages I had ever had.

"Yes small man" slurred the fat man. "I confiscated it from some Yi-ti refugees fleeing your cousin in Vaes-Dothrak."

"I think opening your doors to these people was the best thing you could have done Lord Groo. It will give you the man-power you need to face the Red terror on equal terms in battle." I said to him.

"We will see. I have to train them first. The Iron Bank is delighted to pay for it."

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(Holy Emperor's POV)

Astapor choked in front of me. Thousands of little eunuch soldiers hiding behind walls choked on their own lungs as acid burned them from the inside. The high brick walls of the city doing a good job to keep the gas in. The nobles knew what was to happen to them.

They even tried to surrender!

Did they actually think I did not know the treacherous lechers would betray any truce they made?

Like I would negotiate with baby-killers, child-rapists and slavers?

I'm not the U.S. military trying to hold an unstable region secure for monetary purposes.

I am destroying a people's bloodline, culture, and, society.

A genocide in the simplest terms.

Genocide against the Ghis and their whole fucking system of oppression of freedoms and brutality.

I gave My general, Black-Beard, a few simple orders before moving on to the next stop.

Kill every man with a beard. March everything of value to the Rhyone. Bring low every brick.

Leave nothing but ash and blood.

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(Red Son's POV)

The undoing of Yunkai was almost done by the time I reached it. A day and night of travel in the SD got me there in good time.

There are no sell-swords or slave-soldiers left alive. The "Wise Masters" and their thousands of slave owning friends are thrown into a pyre one by one. Their deaths are fueling a massively powerful spell to raise the long slain from the dead.

The Red warriors that travel with my troops can raise the newly dead with no sacrifice required. The long dead though, need many sacrifices. This and all Ghiscari cities had had their fair share of wars with old Valyria. Withstood them for thousands of years. There were the bones of Dragon-lords here. Captured and bred as slaves until the power in their blood was lost and diluted beyond comparison.

I want the blood of Old Valyria.

With stormborn already being insane, I need a more viable option.

Maybe it will work, maybe it won't.


End file.
